


ageism still exists: the battle of pierce hawthorne vs. the greendale yuppies

by crackers4jenn



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:08:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23825098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackers4jenn/pseuds/crackers4jenn
Summary: "So," Annie says, regrouping, and Jeff can almost see the exact transition from casual to intense, which is his first alert that he should probably be sliding up and out of the booth right now. "I was thinking, because Pierce is going through arough time," she expels on a breath barely louder than a whisper, and also, can you really call breaking up with your escort girlfriend of two weeks a rough time? "--we should try to be a little moresensitivearound him."(or: Annie, Jeff, and Troy meddle a bit.)
Relationships: Annie Edison/Jeff Winger
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	ageism still exists: the battle of pierce hawthorne vs. the greendale yuppies

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written and posted on my livejournal in 2010. It's set in a very vague season 2.

Jeff slides into a booth in Greendale's dining hall, feeling, as always, a small stab of shame regarding his surroundings. Today the cafeteria is overrun with overmuscled jockstraps who keep shouting their location into their girly flip phones as being _at the caf_. Shoot him.

He ends up with Troy and Annie, nodding a greeting first in the direction of fluttery eyelashes, "Dora," and then at Troy, who gets the more solemn, " _Diego_."

" _Every_ time you do that," Annie sniffs, haughtily clutching at her cardigan sweater, "it makes YOU seem like the immature one."

"YEAH," rallies Troy. "Diego? _You're_ wrong. Not only is that cartoon racially irrelevant, Iiiiii am not going about this the right way, am I? Dang."

Annie gives him a little side-smile of commiseration. Jeff full-on grins.

"So," Annie says, regrouping, and Jeff can almost see the exact transition from casual to intense, which is his first alert that he should probably be sliding up and out of the booth right now. "I was thinking, because Pierce is going through a _rough time_ ," she expels on a breath barely louder than a whisper, and also, can you really call breaking up with your escort girlfriend of two weeks a rough time? "--we should try to be a little more _sensitive_ around him."

Jeff's response is to slide an inch towards freedom. Subtly, though, lest even that small movement has the undesired effect of cuing Annie's bailing-on-friendship detector. 

"I have been opened to a whole can of old people crazy," Troy breathes out, and for the slight upwards tone, this 'crazy' Troy is talking about must include terrible, horrible things no kid on the verge of adulthood should ever witness. Seriously, for real. Jeff accidentally saw an Old White Man Says tweet once. You can't mind erase that shit.

Annie has her sympathy eyes on, though, equal parts obnoxious and impressive. You know, given the situation. Which, oh yeah. Jeff is still sliding out of the booth away from, because here's what's happening: Annie is getting way too involved in someone else's life, and since that someone else is _Pierce_ , who Jeff makes it a habit of only knowing on a peripheral level, he wants to have as much participation in whatever do-gooder shtick is about to go down as he wants in the Dean's thrice annual Youtube-athon. A strong _no thanks._

"He's just lonely," she's saying, eyes pinned on Jeff, because _holy crap_ she has the uncanny ability to sniff out Jeff's more soulless of moments. Sure enough, she goes, "JEFF," in this way that makes it sound like a barked out warning to cease and desist.

"No," he is immediately on the defense. "No, no, and oh right. NO."

Troy looks back and forth between Annie and Jeff, lost and confused. "Uh.... _what's_ going on?"

Annie has her formidable face on, like she thinks it still wields some kind of power. Keep dreaming. Troy gets ignored so she can lecture-slash-whine at Jeff, "You're the closest friend he has!"

Say the hell WHAT?

Troy actually, legitimately considers this and comes to the worst conclusion ever: "Besides Leonard." 

"Ugh," is Jeff's involuntary response. "That guy's a jerk."

Annie gasps. "He's in his _eighties_ , at least."

Troy, however, grows wise. "There are some things, Annie, you don't out-grow. Like cereal, or foot pajamas. Cars that are also robots. Or, in this case, Leonard being a jerk."

By now, Jeff has mostly edged his way to freedom, on the verge of a fare-thee-well-suckers push-off. But Annie dons her craziest look, the one that is just shy of a lip tremble, like the emotions are so intense, she has lost all facial control. She says, "After all this time, after everything we've been through! Paintball, Abed's backpack sabotage--"

"Where are you, Annie's Boobs?" Troy lets out as a wistful sigh.

"--Inappropriately named pet monkeys on the loose. Health scares. We _owe_ this to Pierce."

Jeff full on sarcasms out. " _Right_. We owe _Pierce_. The guy who holds us hostage with forty minute jokes where the punchline is always ' _And then I lost my pants_ '--"

"Sometimes," Annie jumps in, voice rising as it overlaps with his, "those have merit!"

Jeff lets that hang there for long, disbelieving seconds. 

Troy stares her down with some seriously accusatory eyes. "If only you could hear how crazy you sound right now."

Annie gets flustered, which has her speeding really fast through an excuse. "Look, I'm not saying that I like Pierce's attempts at mood lightening any more than you do--"

" _Understatement_."

"But that doesn't mean his hurt emotions are any less valid or worthy of sympathy than either of yours!" She finishes strong, with a look meant to shame them into submission. "Jeff," she adds, as the final blow, "when you broke up with Slater, Pierce was there for you."

"That's low," he all but growls.

"But true," pipes up Troy. 

Jeff struggles internally for a few long moments, this raging war of obligation versus practicality. Helping Pierce out has no reward value. It conflicts with LIFE. Besides, no one ever claimed friendship was mutually beneficial. And Pierce is borderline psychotic, so.

Troy and Annie are both staring up at him with _Could you really deny this poor, broken, 3-legged albeit racist puppy?_ faces.

"UGH. FINE."

And Annie actually claps. Just once, this excited little can't-be-helped burst of joy. Plus she's smiling that pleased grin at him, like instead of agreeing to be an actual decent friend, Jeff had promised to lasso the moon. 

***

They work in shifts. Troy gets more unscheduled time to do as he pleases, since he lives with Pierce, but also because Abed pops in and makes a pretty strong case for Troy's still developing sense of character and how it shouldn't be wholly wrapped up in an ironic father figure like Pierce because that could have lasting ill effects.

Annie follows Jeff throughout the day, yapping at his ankles, always there with a whispered word of advice. As if Jeff is clueless to male bonding. And anyway, it all seems kind of pointless because Pierce has put as much grief into his break-up as he did his mother's death. Which is to say, there is probably some level five Laser Lotus post-relationship protocol he is being brainwashed by. An altar of lava lamps he is worshiping to.

Annie saddles up beside Jeff in Anthropology, bailing on her usual seating next to both Shirley and Britta, who offer up wounded eyes, like it's personal. There's also a touch of worry there, like they think Annie is back to her old crushing-on-Jeff ways, which... pft. Ridiculous. 

With Pierce seated on the other side of him, sort of slumped over on his stool, head lolled off to the side, Annie gives Jeff a look. The Look. The _go get 'em, tiger!_ look, one that comes with accompanied shooing hand gestures, like he has to not only be lead into this moment of good will, but pushed off the metaphorical tall ledge as well.

He gives her a sober stare back-- _bite me, Pollyanna_ \--before affecting a bored persona. He picks at his fingernails, sighs out a disinterested, " _Pierce_."

Pierce obliges back: "Gay hair."

Jeff shoots Annie another look. _THIS IS STUPID AND I HATE IT_ , it says. 

She aims back a facial response. It coaches, _MAN UP, WINGER_! 

"So," he tries again, tapping into that part of him that might actually care for these people he is still surrounding himself with. It's like drilling down to trapped Chilean miners. "Look. I heard about--"

But Pierce starts frantically pointing and word-frothing, "Gay wad! Gay head! Gay butt!" at Jeff.

On it goes, with Jeff shooting Annie yet another look. 

This one says: _NEVER, EVER AGAIN._

***

After class (it took Pierce five full minutes to settle down, plus a hastily bought plate of vegetables from Britta and the stern instruction to eat up or his phone privileges would be taken away), Troy falls into step behind Jeff, while Annie ups her pace to relentlessly follow. Jeff feels this slow drip of his patience being drained thin.

"Well, that backfired," Troy pointlessly points out.

"We are dealing with a man who is clinically senile," Jeff snaps back. "How did you expect it to go?"

"Oh yeah, hurl insults," Troy checks him. "That's what this situation calls for."

It's at this point that Jeff realizes he is dealing with a pair of teenagers, and while lashing out at them at the first blow of failure temporarily takes the weight from pressing on his ego, it only inevitably adds to his guilt count. And stress count. And that is a count that, horrifyingly, is adding to his wrinkle and gray hair count.

So he calms down, stops them mid-walk right there in the hall where Britta and Shirley pass by them with wringing hands and even-more-worried eyes. 

"Look. Pierce obviously doesn't care about this as much as you seem to think he does."

"He does!" Annie is quick to insist. 

"Pierce is a man trapped in a _very_ wrinkled shell of emotions," Troy agrees with her.

Jeff gathers his patience. He does all the tricks. Counts to five. Closes his eyes. Blows out a calming breath.

"He was dumped by an escort," he finally counters, low and calm-voiced.

"You know what this is really about?" Annie wonders, with a wild flare of her eyes. "This is about you being totally unequipped to deal with the human reaction of actual emotion!"

Troy starts nodding really big, like: oh look here, we've tapped into some truth. In reality, they've tapped into some BULLSHIT.

Jeff gives back the vocal equivalent of an eye-roll, flatly saying, "That's not what this is about."

"Oh really?" she throws back, crazy kicked up a notch. "So, you're completely _cool_ with all the emotions that come with being rejected? You're just so _carefree_ about it, I guess. That's the Jeff Winger way!"

"What is this, Psych 101? Pierce was DUMPED by an ESCORT for barely even the second or third time THIS YEAR. Are we seriously going to stand here and deconstruct meaning beyond face value?"

It's then that they notice Pierce hovering around, and that's only because he lets out a haughty, "FOURTH break-up, your highness," with his head all jerked back and aimed upwards in a show of defiance. "And for your record, each one has opened up a new chapter in my life, and in case you're further wondering--"

"I'm not," drawls Jeff, even though he doesn't really mean it (WHY set him up for it, seriously) and Annie gives him her you-soulless-monster eyes.

"--Clearly this one would be titled 'Friends Who Are Not Really Friends'," which has Annie gasping and clutching at her chest. "Subtitled," he goes on to say, starting to shuffle backwards, "'Ageism Still Exists. The Battle of Pierce Hawthorne vs. The Greendale Yuppies.'"

"Pierce," Jeff sighs.

"It's too late for your groveling! Your blanket apologies, or your snuggied remorse!" 

And, of course, this is where Pierce falls backwards over a wayward red wagon still decorated in its puppy float attire, collapsing into a heap of tangled limbs.

"Keep away!" he commands when Annie, on impulse, starts to scoot forward to help. "KEEP AWAY, FAKE FRIENDS! FAKE FRIENDS! THEY'RE FAKE FRIENDS! Oh god, why, the pain is unbearable. Fake friends, _whyyyyyyy_."

***

Back at the dining hall, in the same booth as before, Troy unblinkingly stares straight ahead.

"That," he says, dull of all emotions, "was some kinda trip. Sort of like that movie _The Others_ , which is scary, but not in the way you'd expect."

Half the cafeteria is staring them down. News of Pierce's injury has already circulated. Mostly via the loud speaker, where Dean Pelton had got on and felt obligated to dish out play-by-plays of Pierce being first treated by EMTs, then loaded onto the ambulance. Pierce's cries of "TRAITORS! JEFF WINGER. FAKE FRIEND! FAKE!" echoed the halls for eleven full minutes. 

(One of the Dean's more memorable moments of commentary: " _And now he's--oh yes, he's crying and cursing whatever deity it is you choose to believe in, althoughhhhhh. Laser lotus? That's stretching things a bit, don't you think? Oh, wow! New insight! Apparently Annie Edison was also involved. Did NOT see that coming. It also looks like Troy Barnes wound up being a casual observer caught in the crosshairs. And they say Greendale's overripe with racist qualifiers!_ ")

Annie matches Troy's haunted look. "I can't believe some of the things he said," she murmurs, lashes starting to droop with the weight of the emotionally fraught.

Jeff, for his part, maintains a strong grip on reality. Yes, ideally their efforts could've produced a less violent ending. But, inevitably, you're going to get screwed over when you get involved in other people's lives.

Annie's aiming her worries his way. "What should we do?"

"Go home?"

She opens her mouth to argue, and he cuts her off, grabbing his books to bail. "I'm serious. Go home. You need to accept that the only thing Pierce needs is a new family therapist." 

***

The next day, Pierce wheels himself into their usual room with an air of aloofness to him, like his hurt feelings are still fresh but he has obligations beyond his control to show up for their study session anyway. 

Already Jeff has witnessed the circulation of four different rumors regarding The Pierce Incident:

1) Star Burns, whispering to some hippie wanna-be in a _Legalize pot!_ shirt, said that Pierce flipped out on prescription pills and attacked some puppies before having a stroke. Right now, man, Pierce is in a medically-induced _coma._

2) Leonard, talking to who he thought was a group of people but was actually a poster on the wall promoting diversity, said that Jeff punched Pierce in the nose over the sexy boobed brunette.

3) The lunch lady told him she'd heard it was Annie who'd gone psycho and attacked Pierce. Really. Over some kind of sex scandal, too. A threesome, she'd heard. 

4) The Dean had skipped up to first manhandle Jeff, then mock-scold him for beating up Pierce, then put a sly hand to his mouth to assure, "We do what we have to for love," all the while groping Jeff's frequently abused abs.

Basically: what the hell?

As if she buys into the Greendale rumor mill that's chugged out these lies all day, Shirley stares down first Annie, then Jeff with her most you-should-know-you're-being-judged-by-God-right-now eyes, while Britta passes skeptical glances back and forth between the pair. 

"Tension," Abed remarks, just like that, completely unnecessarily, like he's pointing out a flier on the wall or a chip on Britta's shoulder.

Britta stresses, "Really _strange_ tension." Her skepticism is upped to paranoia.

Pierce is attempting to pull up to the table, but because he hasn't first moved the chair out of the way, he's blocked out. Troy moves sideways to help, but Pierce bares his teeth and hisses at him.

Shirley bites down on her lip and shakes her head, hard. "That's devil-tension," she breathes out, worried a'new.

Jeff plays it diplomatically. He's got his palms held out, like he has the power to diffuse the situation with a few calming words. He says, "It's _imaginary_ tension, because there is no tension."

"Mmhm! I agree with Jeff," Annie is fast to say.

Jeff shoots her a hard look. "Thanks."

Britta leans back and folds her hands across her chest. Paranoia has been edged out for scorn. "Well, well," she says.

Shirley's started to rock back and forth now, her bag clutched close as some last attempt at Christian decency. "I knew it was only a matter of time before our group spiraled into a shameless trapping of sex and debauchery. I knew it! Annie and Jeff, oh lord, _Annie and Jeff_ ," she cries.

Annie nearly gasps. " _What_ are you talking about?" she demands.

"Oh please, knock off the doe eyes, Bambi," Britta cuts in. Then she pushes forward to lean across the table and preach, "If ever there was concrete evidence that men are disgusting sleazeballs who would do anything to impress the young and naive, it's sitting right there," she points a strong finger at Pierce, "confined in a literal cast of slime and betrayal!"

"And bringing in sweet Troy as a distraction," Shirley accuses. "How could you?!"

"Whaaaaaaaaaaat?" goes Troy, all high-pitched and weirded out.

"You're wrong," Jeff simply tells Britta.

"Oh, am I?"

"Pretty much."

Pierce finally finds words and says, still struggling with his wheelchair, "I'd actually expect this kind of thing from Troy, since he's young, and careless, and more to the point, bla--"

"Alright," Jeff cuts in, while the rest of the group makes SOUNDS OF HORROR.

"Blabby," Pierce says after a beat, with some hostility, like there was NO WAY that sentence was headed towards racism, and shame on them for assuming so. "Look it up."

Troy laughs the hollowed sound of the slightly offended. "Why would I," he shakes his head, " _blab_?" 

Pierce gets all uppity. "I don't know, Troy. Statistics?"

"ALRIGHT," Jeff interrupts again. "What this disturbingly circular conversation is telling me is that, ALL of you are wrong."

Of course, this has the group speaking up as one to defend themselves. Lots of _YOU'RE wrong_ and _I really don't think so_ and _Jesus forgives_ get mixed into one, so that they just sound loud instead of coherent.

Jeff flexes his magically silencing fingers. Abruptly they trail off.

"Shirley, Britta. I appreciate the constant concern, but there's no Annie-and-Jeff _anything_."

Annie's eyes go soft with hurt. "Hey!"

"Except friendship," he is quick to add on. "Platonic, not-romantic, verging on fatherly, I-could-not-stress-this-more _friendship_."

"Ewwwwwwwwwww," groans the Troy-Annie-Britta half of the group.

"Uh, you two _kissed_ ," Troy reminds him in a pushed out breath of horror.

"Like we need to rehash that lewdness," snaps Shirley. "No. That needs to be pushed down deep, and then repented."

Annie rocks back defensively, folds her arms across her chest. "Can we not?"

Which has Britta tossing her usual brand of harsh truth into the conversation. "Oh, so scheming with Jeff in a crudely veiled attempt at flirting is one thing," she accuses, "but being called out for it is an entirely other? What's the matter, Annie? Can't handle what you dished out?"

"I didn't dish ANYTHING," Annie throws back, then blurts, "We were just trying to help Pierce!"

A short silence settles while this sinks in, as crazily unbelievable it seems.

"Help what now?" Pierce is the first to break it, confused.

"You broke up with-- _you know_ \--and we thought that, I don't know! Maybe you could use some sympathy instead of the usual contempt--" This is thrown at Britta, pointedly. "And judgment," she adds, to Shirley, "because, and I realize the _rarity_ of this, but: that's what FRIENDS do." 

"Oh." Britta looks at Annie through narrow, not quite apologetic eyes. "So, you and Jeff weren't all... tag team tongue-buddies again?"

"WHAT?! No!" Annie actually looks scandalized. "Besides, Troy was in on it too."

Pierce throws Troy a bewildered look. "You were?!"

"Uh, I was standing RIGHT THERE when you fell over that wagon. Also, you _just_ hissed at me."

"I hiss at everybody!"

Shirley almost literally starts to glow, now that things have begun to settle over and inappropriate relations were not actually had. 

"Well, then! I guess we can all agree to forgive one another and move on to more pleasant things. Like my church's annual--"

"UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH," is the group consensus on that.

"You don't have to be so dark about it," Shirley says, her voice clipped. "A simple 'no thank you, I choose heathenism' would do."

Religion is a good enough topic for distraction, and as everyone spirals into defense mechanisms and maybe some lecturing (Shirley), Jeff busies himself with an important game of Bejeweled. 

***

After the group splits up for the day, everyone piling out of the study room in their different directions, Jeff hangs back to catch Annie hurrying over to help out Pierce. She grabs his books for him with this helpful, almost apologetic little dip, receiving a rare look of gratitude. In return, she gives off the barest of self-satisfied smiles. 

Pierce notices Jeff first. 

"You just gonna stand there and stare, or what?" he says.

With a grin that is mostly genuine, if not defeated, Jeff takes position behind Pierce. Annie beams up at him. Yeah, yeah.

"So," Pierce starts up. "This one time, when I'd lost my pants."

***

END!


End file.
